


Asset Appreciation

by Dangerousnotbroken



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Fluff, Humor, M/M, Smut, Spanking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-17
Updated: 2016-08-17
Packaged: 2018-08-09 08:08:35
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,992
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7793902
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dangerousnotbroken/pseuds/Dangerousnotbroken
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Look, here's the thing. Castiel just really likes Dean's ass, ok? It's a great ass. That's all there is to it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Asset Appreciation

**Author's Note:**

  * For [relucant](https://archiveofourown.org/users/relucant/gifts).



> So I've got this habit of writing gift fics for super amazing totally awesome people but not actually finishing them until like, a week or so after that person's birthday. It's a thing. I keep saying I'm gonna do better and then I don't, but I make up for it with smut so people are probably gonna keep letting me get away with it.
> 
> ANYWAY.
> 
> [Relucant](http://archiveofourown.org/users/relucant/pseuds/relucant) had a birthday. And she's pretty ok I guess, if by pretty ok you mean hella fuckin balls to the wall awesome, so she probably deserves some fluffy Destiel spanking.

Castiel really, really likes Dean’s butt.

It’s not a secret. Never has been. He’s always been very vocal about how much he appreciates the well-defined curves of Dean’s muscular posterior.

Well, strictly speaking, that’s not technically true. Way back when he first found himself at the helm of a human vessel and caught a glimpse of Dean, the whole concept of an _aesthetically pleasing human being,_ as he’d call it now, was somewhat lost on Castiel. He didn’t exactly start out with an appreciation for Dean’s ass. In fact, back in the beginning, bets are good he pretty much just thought Dean was a complete ass. Dean’s never asked. Dean does, however, recall a good deal about his own behavior and mental state at the time, so _Dean’s an ass_ sounds like a pretty believable first impression. Considering the current state of affairs, however, Dean would also be willing to hazard a guess that if Cas could work some of that angel mojo and wing himself back there, the conversation would go a little different.

“And why would an angel rescue me from hell?” Dean would ask.

And instead of _good things do happen,_ Castiel would throw his head back and laugh. “Are you kidding? Have you looked in the mirror?” he’d counter. “Have you _seen_ that ass? Bounce a quarter off that thing. God damn! Oh, sorry, excuse the blasphemy. “

Ok, that’s probably not true either. Dean would be entirely surprised to hear Cas take that particular tone on this or any other subject. But the sentiment would be there.

Probably.

Anyway, the point is, Castiel in the present day is pretty damn liberal with the compliments about Dean’s backside. And he doesn’t really care who’s there to hear them. So yeah. Cas likes Dean’s ass.

It’s a thing.

Dean doesn’t exactly mind, either. Cas is… _free_ with his attentions. He likes Dean’s lips, so he spends a considerable amount of time kissing them. He kisses Dean when they wake up in the morning. Cas prods at Dean’s hip until Dean rolls over to face the damn angel (shut up, there is nothing wrong with a grown ass man letting his millennia old biblical boyfriend be the big spoon, shut the hell up,) and kisses him slowly and softly for as long as Dean can be convinced to stay in bed. He kisses Dean at the breakfast table, when they both taste like coffee, and Sam is so beyond done with their behavior that he just rolls his eyes and goes back to reading.  And he kisses Dean when they’re hunting, and when they’re done hunting, and when they’re on the way to a hunt, and when they’re talking about hunting. He kisses Dean before they go to sleep, which, ok, technically Cas doesn’t actually do, but he still goes to bed with Dean and there are definitely kisses.

He likes Dean’s eyes, so he spends a hell of a lot of time staring into them. He likes looking Dean right in the eye when they fuck. Loves it. Can’t get enough. Dean shied away at first because of, you know, emotions. He wasn’t very good at those. Still isn’t, really, but Cas has been wearing him down for a while so the edge is a little duller. Anyway, yeah. The whole thing with the eye contact. That’s for real. Cas likes Dean’s eyes.

And he’s pretty fond of Dean’s dick too. No need to list all the reasons Dean knows that’s a bona fide fact. They’re pretty self-explanatory. And there’s a whole host of them. Dean knows. He knows for sure how much Cas likes that part. When Cas likes something, he is in no way shy about letting Dean know all about it. Repeatedly. In a bunch of really, really fun ways.

So when it’s said that Cas likes Dean’s butt, it’s best to just take it as a set in stone, verifiable fact.

All that considered, a single firm, well placed slap on the behind shouldn’t come as any kind of surprise, but it still catches Dean way the fuck off guard when he walks past Cas on his way to shelve some books in the library and the angel’s hand darts out to smack him. Angelic strength notwithstanding, it’s a pretty light smack, but it still jolts Dean seriously enough that he almost drops the stack of tomes, and thank Chuck that Sam’s out on a supply run because the squawk he emits in the aftermath is, admittedly, not really befitting of the whole tough guy persona Dean likes to maintain.

Dean turns around as slowly as he can manage, setting the books down on the table so he can rub absently at the soreness blossoming on his left cheek. He means to stare Cas down, no easy task when the person you’re staring down is actually a wavelength of celestial intent and also had their dick in your ass about twelve hours previous, but hey, Dean likes a challenge. Always has. He fixes Cas with a glare that, for anyone else, would be withering, but Cas just cocks his head to the side, examines Dean with those deep blue eyes, and lets the side of his mouth curl up into a playful little smile that Dean really, really shouldn’t like.

He does though.

He totally does.

“What the hell was that?” Dean asks, erring on the side of….what’s the opposite of caution?

Castiel shrugs, the shoulders on his trench coat rising up casually before dropping back down, letting his arms hang loose at his sides. “I like your ass,” he offers in reply, like that says anything at all. “You know that.”

“Yeah but spankings?”

“Can you blame me?” Cas says with a laugh. “It’s a great ass.”

And Dean should probably tell Cas he didn’t like it, and that he shouldn’t do that again, except where’s the fun in that? It didn’t really hurt. Actually it was kinda…ok whatever. Maybe he liked it. It’s no big deal. So he says nothing, and he shelves the books that are the reason he came into the damn library in the first place, and he pretends he can’t feel Cas’ eyes on him the entire time.

Dean’s _real_ good at pretending.

And then there’s like, a whole five days where Dean has no reason at all to think about the spanking incident again. He walks past Cas a whole bunch of times and there’s no more smacks to be had, even though the opportunities present themselves aplenty. It’s not like Dean is manufacturing them or anything. He’s not, you know, trying to entice Cas to smack him again. But…he’s not exactly trying to prevent it either.

Anyway, the point is that by the weekend, Dean isn’t thinking about the little encounter in the library anymore. On Tuesday, he jetted off to the ass end of Nowhere, Nebraska with Sam to chase down a case that turned out to not be any kind of case at all, so that was at least a little bit distracting. It should have taken them a decent bit of time to sort out, but when there’s no ghost, there isn’t actually any digging, salting, or burning to do, so the timeline gets a bit shorter. So they’re back in the comfort of the bunker by mid-afternoon Friday, and God help him, Dean’s just happy to be back where Cas is. He’s turning into some kind of damn romantic these days. Can’t wait to get back to him when they’re apart. Calls him when they’re out hunting. Sends him fuckin’ selfies, for crying out loud, which is not a thing Dean Winchester would ever cop to if anyone at all asked but hey, it makes Cas happy so he keeps smiling for the damn camera. Fuck snapchat though. No way this side of Lucifer’s cage Dean’s gonna be caught dead or alive with a flower crown or cat ears or whatever the fuck else the kids are doing these days. But that’s neither here nor there because, officially, the point is that Dean has no reason at all to be thinking about a firm, open palmed slap to the behind when he gets back to the bunker on Friday evening, but it’s exactly what he gets.

He’s unloaded the car and emptied the coffee cups out of the foot wells, scrubbed the unpleasant feeling of a day behind the wheel off his skin, and gotten half way towards dressing again when Cas corners him in his (their) room. It used to be Dean’s. He likes it better this way. Sleeping arrangements aside, Dean isn’t caught the least bit off guard by six feet of former angel invading his space as he tries to decide which t-shirt is going to be the most comfortable to murder a six-pack and a burger in. Cas likes Dean’s ass, as aforementioned. And his arms. And his legs. And his lips. He likes the whole package. And also, ahem, his package, insert suggestive eyebrow waggle here. He tends to be where that package is.

“Why are you getting dressed?” Cas demands, his thumbs already hooking under the waistband of Dean’s boxers, the only clothes he’s managed to put on since emerging from the shower. “You’ve been gone for a very long time.”

“I was gone for like, four days,” Dean argues, already fully aware of the futility.

“It felt like longer. Take these off,” he commands, snapping the elastic against Dean’s skin.

Dean could protest but the thing is, no he couldn’t. He actually really couldn’t. Like, he could say the words just fine but there’s no fuckin’ way he’s ever going to _mean_ them and Cas would see it for the lie it was anyway, although there’s an argument to be made that Cas would probably abide by Dean’s wishes even if they both knew he didn’t mean it. But Dean doesn’t do that. Dean takes his damn boxers off. He drops them on the floor right where he stands, stepping out of them without even a hint of argument and follows the direction of Cas’ eyes towards the bed.

Dean knows an unspoken command when he sees one. Whether he chooses to take it as a command or a suggestion he’s comfortable acting on is irrelevant. To the bed he goes.

There’s times when Cas really, really likes foreplay. He’ll spend forever kissing and touching and, goddamnit, _caressing_ Dean like he’s something precious and treasured and fragile. He’ll drag the thing out until Dan gets all embarrassed and uncomfortable before anyone’s dick gets anywhere near anyone else’s ass, and he won’t be hurried along by all the pleading and posturing in the world. He’ll straight up pretend he doesn’t hear or he’ll shut Dean down with a firmly spoken _no!_ and there isn’t a thing Dean can do to change his mind.

This ain’t that, apparently.

Dean goes to lie down with his head against the pillows, expecting Cas to climb atop him and start with something in the way of a warmup. Instead, Cas crosses his arms and raises an eyebrow, an amused grin spreading across his face.

“Hands and knees,” he suggests, knowing full well Dean will hear it as a command and respond appropriately. Apparently they’re skipping foreplay and going right for it, and Dean’s dick is already interested so really, what’s to complain about.

Dean doesn’t get a slick finger nudging at his hole when Cas climbs up behind him though. He gets a sharp smack right at the spot where his left cheek meets his left thigh, and he yelps in a manner most unbefitting a hunter of his reputation. And Cas doesn’t say a word but Dean would bet pretty much anything that there’s a smug fucking grin on his stupid perfect face, and Dean can’t even hate him for it because _what a fucking thrill._

“Did you like that?” Cas inquires in a tone that says he knows full well the answer and just wants to hear Dean say it. It also dares Dean to lie, promises all manner of consequences if he does, and asserts that Cas will know the difference. How four words can carry all that, Dean isn’t quite certain, but it _does,_ and Dean knows he’s gonna tell the truth even before he gives his mouth permission to speak.

“Yeah,” he grumbles, begrudgingly. He can’t lie, but he can take some of the power out of the admission. He’s telling Cas he liked it. He’s not admitting that the idea of Cas smacking him around a bit has his cock hard and his mind spinning out scenarios. He’s not telling Cas that it’s fulfilling a fantasy he never knew he even _had_ until right this minute. All he’s saying is that, strictly speaking, it didn’t suck.

Cas hears the rest of it anyway.

“Oh good,” Cas intones, “because I liked it too. I’m rather fond of your ass, you know.”

“You don’t say,” Dean replies sarcastically, earning himself another swat. “Hey!” he cries, but they both know his heart isn’t in it.

“I do say,” Cas insists. “It’s a nice ass.” And then he slaps Dean again, _fucking hard,_ and Dean’s mouth is _not_ supposed to moan in reply but it does anyway because it’s a fucking traitor.

“You just like pushing me around,” Dean counters.

“You’re not wrong,” Cas agrees.

“So what, is this like, some kind of a roleplay thing? Am I a bad boy?” Dean finds the entire idea of roleplay frankly absurd, and not just because the idea of Cas trying to act like anyone other than Cas is entirely unbelievable. As a result, he barely suppresses laughter at the mere suggestion that Cas might want something like that. “Because you know I’m down to mix things up a little, but I draw the line at letting you fuck me in a schoolgirl uniform.”

“Don’t be crass,” Cas warns only seconds before unleashing a flurry of slaps on Dean’s ass and thighs. Some are gentle and almost playful, others are so sharp they leave a sting on his skin. Dean likes all of them. He likes the ones in the middle the most though, the ones that warm his skin and let him feel the outline of Cas’ fingers after his hand has retreated. Not slaps intended to hurt. Just enough to get his attention.

“That’s not a no,” Dean presses.

“It’s a no,” Cas assures him. “No mini-skirts. No costumes. No anything you don’t want. Just…my hands on your ass.”

“Yeah alright,” Dean concedes, less enthusiastically than he actually feels, lest Cas think he’s actually ok with this shit and like, get ahead of himself. Or something. Dean’s not really sure why. He’s just certain he should protest at least a little.

Instead of acknowledging Dean’s answer, Cas just lays into him, slapping his ass and rubbing the sore spots in turn, warming Dean’s ass until he’s having a very difficult time staying still. Part of Dean’s brain is telling him to escape the onslaught and the rest is telling him to lean into it, let Cas work him over. There’s also a part that’s reminding him that, perhaps, Cas might choose to fuck him after this (oh please let Cas choose that) and then it’s going to be Cas’ hips colliding with the pink skin of his ass, and man, is Dean on board with that.

So on board, in fact, that when Cas stops slapping him, Dean huffs in disapproval and turns to look over his shoulder to see what the damn problem is. Thankfully, what he sees is Cas, slicking his fingers up with lube, just about ready to nudge one in between Dean’s cheeks. That, and the endearingly fond smile on Cas’ face, not at all devious or cruel like one might expect from the person who just delivered a spanking to his unsuspecting boyfriend. Cas’ grin widens when he sees Dean looking back at him and, without any further hesitation, he teases one slick finger past Dean’s rim.

This is normally the part where Dean would stop thinking about anything else and just focus on the exquisite stretch. Normally, that’s all he has to do, because that’s what Cas gives him. Dean settles in to enjoy the burn of it, to let himself feel every touch while Cas works him open, but he should know better than to expect the spankings to end there. In fact, he’s just barely had time to start enjoying this part (and he really does enjoy this part,) when Cas raises his other hand and slaps Dean again, hard, letting his hand rest heavy on the skin.

“What was that for?” Dean gripes, teasing. “Am I being punished?”

“Oh you think this is a joke?” Cas retorts, shoving a second finger into Dean’s ass and levying a handful of slaps, spread evenly between both cheeks.

“Not at all,” Dean assures him. “I always take sex seriously.” That may or may not be true, but it doesn’t mean Dean’s able to suppress a little shudder of laughter that wells up.

“Good.” Cas’ hand warms Dean’s ass with sharp, firm smacks, his fingers twisting and teasing. “Because I’ll have you know that you’re absolutely perfect. You haven’t misbehaved at all. I’m just…playing with you.”

“Playing with me?” Dean repeats, intrigued. It’s somewhat difficult to focus on conversation with Cas’ fingers still burying themselves in his ass, but hey, sometimes you gotta roll with the punches.

“Yes,” Cas tells him matter-of-factly. Dean can practically hear the grin spreading across his face. “I mean, I like what we usually do. I know you do. But there’s nothing wrong with mixing it up from time to time.”

“No sir, there is not,” Dean replies glibly.

“Ooh,” Cas hums cheerfully. “Sir. I like that.”

“Yeah well, don’t get used to it,” Dean sasses back. “I ain’t—“

Cas cuts him off with another slap.

“I think we’ll leave it at that.” Cas insists firmly, crooking his fingers and effectively ending the conversation. Pleasure whites out Dean’s thought process and turns the rest of his words into a groan he has almost enough presence of mind to be embarrassed about. Almost, but not quite.

“Fuuuuuuck.” It comes out low and rough and Cas laughs. It’s not a mocking laugh but rather one full of joy and mirth, like Dean giving up that groan makes him happier than anything. He rubs the pad of one finger gently over Dean’s prostate, just a light enough touch to make Dean moan and writhe again, then lights his ass up with a few more well placed spanks.

“I like you like this,” Cas says with a laugh.

“I don’t exactly hate it,” Dean admits, like there was any doubt of that fact.

“I wonder,” Cas muses, rubbing his hand over Dean’s ass idly, “would you hate it more, or less, if I was spanking you with my dick in your ass instead of my fingers?” It’s a rhetorical question, obviously, but Dean has always been the kind of guy to respond with an absurd amount of sass when faced with a rhetorical question.

“Probably less,” Dean replies. “I think. You should probably test that theory though. I’ve been wrong before.”

Cas slips his fingers out of Dean’s ass and smacks him hard, right where his ass meets his thigh. “That’s prudent,” Cas agrees. “We should be sure.” Not that either of them really had a doubt, but Dean hates it way, way less when Cas pushes his cock into Dean’s ass and follows it up with four or five solid slaps.

“Better?” Cas asks, thrusting slow and deep. He doesn’t even wait long enough for Dean to give anything other than a soft moan in reply before laying in with the palms of his hands again, gripping Dean’s hip with one and slapping with the other. He peppers Dean’s ass with little slaps, not too hard, but enough to sustain the pink hue he must be sporting, and definitely enough to keep the heat alive on his skin.

“Much – ah!” Dean cries out when Cas smacks him harder. “Much better. Awesome, even.”

“Excellent,” Cas says with glee. “You should touch yourself.” He phrases it like a suggestion, but Dean knows an order when he hears one.

“Oh should I?” Dean asks coyly. “You’re not gonna do it for me?”

“I could, but then I’d have to stop smacking your ass. And I don’t really want to do that.”

“Yeah ok,” Dean concedes, shifting his weight onto one arm so he can slide the other beneath his body and take his cock in hand. “C’mon Cas, is that the best you can do?” he taunts.

Cas laughs. If Dean could see over his shoulder right now, he’d bet folding money that Cas has his head thrown back as the throaty sound echoes through the room. “What, you want harder?” Cas gives him harder. His hand collides with Dean’s skin, the slap ringing out through the air.

“Shit yeah. That’s awesome!”

“You’re absurd,” Cas tells him fondly.

“ _I’m_ absurd?” Dean challenges. “Me? You started this whole thing. I’m just along for the ride.”

“You’re absurd and I like it,” Cas persists, gripping Dean’s hips so he can hold him steady, driving forward to deepen each thrust. Cas’ hips bounce off of Dean’s ass, renewing the pain of the spanking he delivered earlier, making it impossible for Dean to forget what started this whole endeavor. “I’ve never heard anyone describe a spanking as awesome before.”

“I’m betting you’ve never spanked anyone before either, so….”

“Touché,” Cas agrees, shoving Dean forward until he collapses to the bed, draping himself over Dean’s body. He rolls his hips against Dean’s ass, peppering his neck and shoulders with kisses. And the change in angle is, well, if Dean thought it was awesome before, this has blown that right out of the water. He can barely move his hand, trapped under his hips like this, but it doesn’t really take much. Cas is pressed against him everywhere, grinding against his ass, draped over his back, filling him up, and before long Cas has him crying out as he comes.

It doesn’t even surprise Dean to hear Cas laughing through his own orgasm. It starts out as a throaty moan and devolves into hearty laughter almost immediately, such an honest  and joyful sound. He laughs while he ruts against Dean’s freshly spanked ass, he laughs while he kisses everywhere he can reach, and he’s still laughing when he rolls off of Dean’s back to pull him into something that looks suspiciously like a big spoon/little spoon kind of arrangement.

“Oh Dean,” Cas says through his laughter. “That was fantastic. You enjoyed it?”

“You even gotta ask? I came, didn’t I?” Dean tries to roll over so he can face Cas but he’s held in place by strong arms around his waist, and soon gives up. Maybe being the little spoon can be comfortable sometimes. As long as no one sees.

“Yeah, you did. But the spanking, that was good? I didn’t hurt you?” Even as Cas asks, he’s still pressing his lips to Dean’s neck and shoulders, kissing him like he can’t bear to break away, and that doesn’t seem like a thing that warrants complaining.

“Hell yeah, it was good,” Dean assures him honestly. He never would have expected it, hell, he would have argued if someone other than Cas suggested he might enjoy a little bit of rough treatment like this, but sometimes, the most surprising things are the best.

The fact that Cas enjoyed delivering the spanking isn’t the least bit surprising, however. After all, he’s gone to great pains to make sure Dean knows how much Cas enjoys his ass. This just means he’s got a whole new way to show it.

**Author's Note:**

> I have a [tumblr](http://shennanigoats.tumblr.com), in case you're interested.


End file.
